Sea Sick: A Horror Novel Page 3

  Something isn’t right here. There’re too many sick people for this to be a simple cold virus.

  Jack downed his bourbon and coke and placed the glass back down on the table. Slowly, he began to rise from his seat, oddly feeling that any sudden movements would be bad. He took another look around the room, making sure that what he was seeing was correct and not an embellishment of his weary mind. But there was definitely at least a quarter of the barroom audience that were sick. Paranoia was even starting to convince him that it may have been a full third. It was time to get out of there, Jack decided. The last thing he wanted to spend the week doing was nursing a horrible cold.

  Just as he was about to abandon his table, Jack was stopped by the Filipino waitress. “Is okay?” she asked him.

  “Yes, fine. I’m just feeling a bit…claustrophobic.”

  “You want I bring you glass of water?”

  Jack shook his head. “No, thank you. That’s very kind but-”

  The waitress shot forward into his arms, pushed by some great force. As Jack tried to steady the woman, he saw that Claire’s boyfriend, Conner, was the one who had shoved her. There was a wild spark of anger in his feral eyes.

  Jack snarled at him. “What the hell is your problem? What are you on?”

  Conner gave no answer. He rushed forward with his arms outstretched, grabbing at Jack’s throat. Jack choked and spluttered as the fingers wrapped around his windpipe. Shock and surprise had distracted his reactions, but he quickly regained his focus by putting his years of training to use. He stamped his heel into Conner’s left instep and waited for the lad to back off.

  But it didn’t happen.

  Conner continued to claw and wrench at Jack’s neck and even tried using his teeth as a weapon. Jack turned his body sideways, hooked the lad under his right armpit, and flipped him over his hip with a basic judo throw. Conner went cartwheeling to the floor and stayed there, grasping at the air, disoriented. It was then that Jack heard the screams coming from behind him.

  He turned around with his hands in the air. “It’s okay, everybody. Just remain calm. Everything is under cont-”

  The entire lounge area was filled with panicking men, women, and children. They struggled and leaped over chairs as they tried to exit the room as fast as they could, but only ended up trampling one another. Dotted throughout the room, several groupings of people were engaged in frenzied scuffles. It appeared that the passengers were attacking each other – as if some spell had taken over them all at once and incited them to violence.

  Jack spun on the spot, taking in the scene from all angles. While the room was too dark to see anything in clear detail, it was apparent that people were being hurt. The coppery tang of blood was thick in the air and the only sound he could hear was screaming.

  Jack turned to the waitress standing next to him. She’d remained rooted to the spot ever since Conner had shoved her. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “What the hell is going on?” He shouted the words at her, trying to snap her out of the daze she was in. It must have worked, because she blinked her eyes and seemed to come back to reality. But the only thing she did was flee, abandoning her duties and racing away into the crowd. A moaning from behind Jack made him quickly forget about her.

  Conner was back on his feet, preparing for another attack. His eyes were now leaking blood and it coursed down his pallid cheeks in crimson rivulets. He was snarling like a rabid pit bull.

  Jack wasted no time. He drove his fist forward as hard as he could while twisting his pelvis in order to get his whole weight behind the blow. Conner’s nose spread wide and exploded as the punch connected. Jack felt the fragile bones snap beneath his knuckles, but Conner behaved as if nothing happened. He staggered back under the force, but seemed entirely unaffected by the pain.

  Jack swung his fist again and again and again.

  And again...

  Jack’s triceps began to tire. His hands were swollen and matted with gore, but Conner’s shattered face continued to snarl at him. The lad’s arms continued to reach out and snatch at him. All around Jack, the room continued to combust with chaos. Members of security had run in to check out the disturbance, but were quickly being tackled to the ground by groups of crazed passengers. Jack could not be sure, but he thought he saw men and women, who had themselves been attacked earlier, now joining in the frenzy, as if they had somehow been converted to the cause.

  It was time to retreat. Jack could not restrain Conner much longer with punches alone. It seemed the only way to put a stop to the lad for good would be to kill him, and Jack was not prepared to do that. So he ran instead.

  He pushed and barged his way between tables, chairs, and even other passengers. Many people were trying to escape the room as well as him, but most were now like Conner, bleeding from their eyes and snarling like animals. Several eye bleederseyebleeders reached out for Jack as he dodged by them, but luckily their reactions were slow and their clumsy snatches too late.

  Jack reached the lounge’s exit and bounded through the already-open doors. Outside, people lay scattered throughout the corridor. Numerous adults lay weeping and moaning ,,nursing open wounds that bled unimpeded onto the carpets, while those who were uninjured sought to help those who were. Then there were the people that were undeniably dead; their unmoving bodies split open.

  What the hell have I just been involved in? Jack asked himself as he sprinted amongst the wounded. What the hell has happened to these people?

  At the end of the corridor, Jack took a sharp right and barged through the double doors of the Lido Restaurant. The room inside was deserted compared to the busy High Spirits lounge, but there was still a small group of would-be diners in the room. Several staff members were also standing around, looking confused. Some wore kitchen uniforms while others were dressed like waiters; they all wore mortified expressions on their faces. They obviously had no clue what was happening outside, but the amount of screaming was enough for them to know it was something very bad.

  “What is going on?” a burly white man in a chef’s uniform asked.

  “I have no fucking idea,” Jack admitted. “But we need to get these doors locked, right now.”

  The chef gave no argument and reached for the doors. He fingered the catch where the two doors met, and then turned back to face Jack. “Okay, they’re locked.”

  “Good,” said Jack, wishing there was a barricade blocking the room rather than a flimsy set of frosted-glass doors.“We need to get help.”

  “What help?” asked the chef.

  Jack shrugged. He realised he didn’t actually have an answer to the question. All of the people in the room had gathered, looking at him for answers, but he had none. “I don’t know,” he told them.“What do ships usually do when they’re in trouble? Don’t they send out a mayday or something?”

  The chef shrugged. “Isn’t that planes?”

  Jack shook his head. “You don’t know?”

  “Hey, I’m just a cook.”

  Jack glanced back at the doors behind him and flinched as another scream rang out nearby. “Okay, we shove a load of tables up against this door and wait until we know more.”

  “More about what?” a female voice asked from the back of the room.

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “Claire? What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean? Where else would I be?”

  “I mean, how come you’re not with Conner?”

  Claire moved her way to the front of the group and looked at Jack with confusion. “He and his mates are having a drink in High Spirits. I was just about to join them, actually, but I fancied a bite to eat first. What’s going on out there, Jack?”

  “Everyone has gone batshit insane.”

  “What do you mean?” the chef asked.

  Jack flapped his arms in frustration. “I mean, full-blown, Night of the Living Dead, crazy.”

  Claire actually laughed then, despite the screaming outside. “You mean like zom-“
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  “Look,” said Jack, cutting her off. “I don’t know what the hell is happening. I just know that we’re in danger. We need to get those doors secured. I’m not saying another thing until then.”

  The group murmured amongst themselves and then, thankfully, got to work securing the restaurant’s doors, while outside, people continued to scream.

  ***

  “Their eyes were bleeding?” Claire asked from the other side of the table. “That’s crazy.”

  “I know it is,” said Jack, sighing at the absurdity of what he was trying to tell these people. “But I’m telling you that there’s some sort of super-flu on this ship and it’s turning people rabid. There are people dying all over the place out there.”

  “What makes you think people are sick?” Claire asked. “It could have just been a fight breaking out, or something.”

  Jack looked her in the eye and spoke very slowly. “There was blood pouring down people’s cheeks like motherfucking tap water. One of them came at me like a man-possessed. I must have punched the guy in the face a dozen times and he just kept coming. Can’t say I liked the guy before he went mental, but I’ve never given someone a beating like that and they still remained standing.”

  “You never liked him before?” the chef reiterated. “So you knew the guy who attacked you?”

  Jack wished he could take back his words, but it was too late. He looked across at Claire and saw the understanding dawn across her face. She leapt up from her chair. “Oh my God. It was Conner!”

  Jack leapt up from his own chair, but wasn’t quick enough as Claire raced by him. She leapt around the buffet carts and headed straight for the barricade of tables and chairs that the group had set up beside the door. Before anyone could stop her, Claire pushed aside a dining table and caused several more to collapse out of the way. Jack sprinted across the room, shouting after her with every step. But it was too late. Claire unlocked the catch and managed to prise open the doors, just enough to get her slender body through.

  Jack managed to grab her by the wrist before she disappeared. He yanked at her arm. “Don’t go out there, Claire. It’s dangerous.”

  “I have to go,” said Claire. “You hurt Conner. I need to see that he’s okay.”

  “He’s not,” said Jack. “He is definitely not okay, but that isn’t my doing.”

  “He needs me.”

  “If you go out there, you’re going to get hurt – maybe worse.”

  Claire seemed to hesitate, half in the door, half out.

  “Just let her go,” said one of the other passengers from behind Jack. “We need to get those doors closed again.”

  Jack couldn’t do that. He made eye contact with Claire and pleaded with her. “Just come back inside and we’ll work all of this out, okay? Whatever help Conner needs, he won’t get it by you placing yourself in danger.”

  Claire seemed to mull things over. Eventually her panicked expression softened slightly into something a little calmer. Finally, she nodded to him. “Okay…okay. Just let go of my wrist and I’ll come-”

  Before Claire could complete her sentence she let out an agonised scream. Jack was about to let go of her wrist but now squeezed harder. He pulled with all his strength, but she was being tugged equally as hard from the other side. Jack pulled with all his might, crying out under the strain. Just when it seemed like his arms would give up completely, Claire flew towards him. The door closed shut behind her as the other people inside locked it again and immediately started reforming the barricade.

  Jack fell to the floor, Claire trembling in his arms. She was bleeding. Badly.

  “Jesus Christ!” Jack cried out, cradling Claire in his arms. “Goddamn it.”The girl’s left wrist was torn right open, spewing forth blood like a geyser. Already her eyes were misting over as shock seized her nervous system. The wound was deep. It looked like a bite-mark. Jack shouted at the others in the room to help him – he needed towels to wrap the wound – but they were only interested in securing the doors. They didn’t know Claire and were obviously not willing to help her if it meant endangering themselves.

  Outside, the crazed passengers had become aware of the group’s presence inside the Lido Restaurant. They were hammering at the doors, trying to get through. Jack knew it wouldn’t take long for them to bust inside. He looked down at Claire, wanting to reassure her that all would be okay, but it would have been pointless. She was dead.

  Jack looked down at her in shock. He’d never heard of someone bleeding out so quickly. She must have had a weak heart. It’s the only thing that makes sense. He eased her down onto the floor and hunched over her, ready to perform CPR. He pumped the heels of his palms against her chest rhythmically, trying to keep the oxygen going into her system, trying to jumpstart her heart. Every now and then he would place his ear against her mouth, trying to see if she was breathing on her own.

  “She’s gone,” the chef told him. “You can’t help her.”

  “Shut up,” said Jack, still aware that nobody had offered him any help when he’d asked for it. These people were selfish and he didn’t like them. But he did like Claire, and he wasn’t ready to give up on her. He scowled up at the Chef. “Just shut your mouth and give me some space.”

  Jack pumped harder at the girl’s chest, close to cracking her sternum, but there was nothing to lose by being rough. After performing a dozen compressions he stopped and leant forward, to see if she was breathing.

  “Hey, she’s moving,” someone said. “Look at her hand.”

  Jack looked down at Claire’s twitching hand and was confused. She was certainly moving, but when he leant down by her face there were no breaths whatsoever coming from her nose or mouth. He moved his ear even closer, right up against her lips, close enough that there was no way he could miss any breathing.

  “Shit!” Pain exploded in the side of Jack’s head. He pulled back from the girl and felt his ear rip clear away from his skull. He looked down at Claire and saw her chewing it between her blood-soaked teeth. Everyone around Jack was screaming in terror, just like people had been in the High Spirits lounge. He felt like he was going to pass out.

  Claire twisted and turned on the floor in front of him, bunching up onto her hands and knees, before straightening up to her full length. In many ways she looked just the same as before – a pretty young woman – but Jack could already see the wells of bloody tears forming in her eyes. She came at Jack with her arms outstretched, exactly like her boyfriend had earlier. Jack was so horrified by what was happening that by the time he even managed to consider an appropriate reaction, Claire’s teeth had already begun to sink deep into his windpipe.

  Day 3

  Jack awoke with a start. The fuzziness that filled his head and covered the back of his eyelids was a feeling he had not experienced for some time, yet it was vaguely familiar. The vibrations throbbing through his skull were akin to a hangover and Jack tried to remember if he’d gone for a drink after boarding the ship. Strange as it was, though, Jack remembered going to bed almost as soon as he’d been shown to his room.

  Jack sat up in the bed and blinked his eyes. The room was dark. The light from the cabin’s window was blocked by the curtain dividing the bedroom from the living area. There was a cube-shaped alarm clock on the bedside table displaying the time in glowing, red numerals. It read: 1400.

  Jesus! I slept for 24 hours.

  Jack got up and moved around the edge of the bed, then headed over to the area near the room’s door. He fumbled for the light switch and somehow knew almost exactly where it was. The room lit up and Jack blinked his eyes for a moment as they adjusted. Once he could focus clearly, he saw that it had been his luggage crashing against the wardrobe door that had woken him. The ship must have crested a rough wave. As if to confirm his suspicions, the room tilted again and the luggage bashed against the door.

  The urge to stretch took over Jack and he gave in to it, reaching his hands towards the ceiling and cracking his shoulder joints. Suddenly a s
heet of darkness clouded his vision, followed by several flashes of bizarre images. It made Jack stagger briefly, almost falling to the floor. He felt tired, disorientated – almost sick. Perhaps he was coming down with a cold.

  I guess I needed sleep more than I realised. One night of rest and my mind is one big mess.

  He yanked aside the room-divider curtain and went over to the cabin’s porthole window. Beyond the wooden Promenade Deck was the vast expanse of the blue-green Mediterranean. The ship was currently at sea.

  Something hit the window and Jack leapt backwards, startled. He sighed when it turned out to be just a seagull perching on the ledge of his porthole. The bird stared in with its beady black eyes and, bizarrely, Jack felt like he’d met the creature before. The seagull had an expression of disapproval on his face and flew away a second later.

  Jack let out another yawn and decided to go for a shower. It was a strange morning so far and he wanted the hot water to help wake him up. After months of barely sleeping, finally getting some rest had left his mind muddled and confused. Once he was fully refreshed he would feel better. He was sure of it.

  The small, en suite bathroom was cooler than the rest of the cabin. A breeze seemed to enter unseen from somewhere and skim across the tiles. Jack reached into the shower and twisted the knob jutting out from the wall. The shower head hissed and sprayed a freezing jet of water all over Jack. He cursed and yanked back his arm. He decided to take a leak while the water warmed up.

  His bladder bulged and took a long time to empty. By the time he was finished, the water in the shower had reached a few levels below scalding and Jack stepped inside. The heat was wonderful, fingering his flesh right down to the bone. It almost sent him to sleep and he had to lower the temperature to shock his system back awake.

  Once he felt clean and refreshed, Jack stepped cautiously out of the shower, not wanting to slip on the wet tiles. He dried himself off with one of the towels provided and then crept, naked, back into the bedroom. His clothes were still unpacked and he reached down to pick up his luggage. As he did so, he paused. That strange feeling had come over him again: a split second of random flashes in his vision. It was a lot like déjà vu, like he knew what he was about to do before he actually did it. It was as though he’d had a dream where he’d shifted his luggage onto the bed in the exact same way he was doing now.